


But Not As Long As She Did

by doctorhelena



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Steggy Week 2019, Wartime Steggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 18:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19835830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorhelena/pseuds/doctorhelena
Summary: “You fought side-by-side with Captain America, didn’t you?”“Yeah. But not as long as she did.”- Agent Carter S1E5: The Iron CeilingAka five times Peggy rescued Steve in a fight (and one time he rescued her).





	1. Camp Lehigh, June 1943

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 2 of Steggy Week 2019 (Headcanons and Favourite Moments).
> 
> I strongly headcanon that Peggy spent a lot more time in the field with Steve and the Howling Commandos than we saw in the movie, and that the scene in Johann Schmidt’s stronghold in CA:TFA was not the first time she saved Steve's ass in battle.
> 
> And also that the kiss on the car was not their first. :)

_ Camp Lehigh, June 1943 _

“C’mon Rogers, you gonna take that sitting down?”

Of course Steve wasn’t - he was already up on his feet. “Give it back, Hodge.”

Gilmore Hodge dangled the book just out of reach, then brought it closer to his face, squinting at the title. “Heroes of the Western Front?” He snorted. “Give it up, pipsqueak, the only way you’re going to be a hero is to quit now and let a real man take your place.”

“It’s a good book. And it’s not yours,” Steve said. The principle of the thing aside, that book had cost almost two dollars, which might not be a lot to a guy like Hodge, but was a hell of a lot to Steve. He sighed, ignoring the echo of Bucky’s voice inside him telling him to quit while he was ahead. “I’m giving you to the count of three, Hodge.”

Hodge laughed, tossing the book to Morrison. “Come and get it, short stuff.”

“Oh, just give it back,” drawled Anderson, stretched out on his bunk, eyes closed. “Some of us are trying to get some shut-eye. And the last time you fought in here we all got extra laps. Agent Carter’s out for blood.”

Hodge looked annoyed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of Queen Victoria.”

“Maybe  _ you _ should be,” said Steve, mildly, snatching the book back from Morrison and jamming it back into his footlocker. He took the time to turn the key, which gave Hodge the chance to seize him from behind and lift him right off the floor. “Only took her one punch to knock your lights out,” he added, as if he wasn’t dangling from Hodge’s grip, “and she didn’t even break a sweat.”

“Yeah, well, I can do that too,” said Hodge, hauling back and punching him in the face. Luckily, the awkward angle meant there hadn’t been much force behind the blow, and even more luckily, Hodge didn’t seem to know any of the strangleholds Agent Carter had been quietly teaching Steve.

Steve hooked both of his legs around one of Hodge’s, pulled himself down in one swift motion, then stomped on Hodge’s foot and twisted out of his grip, only to be grabbed by Morrison. “Come on,” said Morrison to Hodge. “I don’t want to be cleaning up in here with a toothbrush again either. Let’s do this outside.”

Steve let himself be carried out behind the barracks, then lashed his leg out and caught Hodge by surprise, hard in the crotch. Hodge went down like a stone, and Morrison, startled, relaxed his grip slightly. Steve wriggled loose and turned to face him, fists at the ready. “All right,” he said. “If this is what a guy’s gotta do to read in peace, let’s get it over with.”

“Rogers, who the hell made you think you should join the army?” asked Morrison.

“Hitler,” said Steve, and took a swing.

He was holding his own pretty well against Morrison, thanks to Agent Carter’s lessons, but he ran into trouble once Hodge recovered. He was sure Agent Carter knew how to fight more than one guy at the same time, but they hadn’t got to that part yet, and his asthma was starting to kick in.

And he also seemed to be hearing things, because he could swear he could hear her voice. “What on earth is going on here? Stop it immediately, all of you!”

Hodge dropped Steve unceremoniously onto the ground where he lay, wheezing and spitting out blood, as Hodge and Morrison came to very reluctant attention.

“I must say, gentlemen,” said Agent Carter, her arms crossed, “I expect your energies would be far better spent spent resting up for the enormous set of extra calisthenics all three of you will be joining me for tomorrow morning. Report to me on the field at 05:00 sharp.”

Hodge’s salute was technically acceptable, but the expression on his face was at the edge of insubordination. “Yes ma’am.”

Agent Carter raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something to say to me, Private Hodge?”

Hodge shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“Then you’re dismissed.” As Hodge and Morrison disappeared around the corner of the barracks, she peered down at Steve. “Can you breathe, Rogers?”

He coughed. “I’m fine.”

She sighed. “Would it be too much to ask to confine your extra-curricular fighting to our lessons for the time being? I know you were almost certainly provoked - ”

He looked down at the grass. “I just hate letting bullies win.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “I know. But honestly, Rogers, you were terrible. You have no idea of how to modify your strategy when outnumbered, do you?”

Steve looked up at her ruefully. “Hasn’t worked well for me so far. But there’s always a first time.”

“Well,” she said, “I’ll show you a few tricks at our next lesson. I don’t like letting bullies win either.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I thought our next lesson was right now. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Agent Carter nodded. “It was. But you look like you might need a little recovery time - after all, you’ll be up rather early tomorrow morning doing calisthenics.”

“I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “I could do this all night.”

She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret, and bit her lip. “All right, then. Let’s start with what you could have done differently with Hodge and Morrison.”


	2. Italy, December 1943

_ Italy, December 1943 _

Things with Peggy - although maybe he should go back to calling her Agent Carter, given recent events - had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Steve didn’t know how begin to fix what had happened, didn’t know if he even could, but at least, he’d thought, he’d be heading out with his new team soon and they’d both get a chance to breathe. Maybe absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

Peggy, though, was standing in front of him in full paratrooper gear, her arms crossed across her chest. “Of course I’m coming along with you. I’m your SSR liaison, Captain Rogers,” she said, a little icily. “What did you think that meant?”

Steve gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you were kind of like Phillips. I assumed you stayed in camp and coordinated - ” Even as he said it, he realized he was digging himself into another hole. He felt his ears turning red. 

Peggy sighed. “For God’s sake, Rogers, I’m not going to shoot you again.” She took his arm and steered him over to the edge of the clearing, away from the bustle of the team checking their parachutes and packs. “Look,” she said. “We’re both perfectly capable of setting aside our personal issues for the greater good. All I ask is that you treat me just as you would any other officer assigned as your liaison. I assure you I’m just as capable, if not more.”

“Well, I sure hope so, ‘cause you taught me most of what I know about all this,” he said without thinking. The corner of her mouth twitched briefly and, encouraged, he took a deep breath. “And - Peggy. I just want you to know that I didn’t mean to kiss Private Lorraine the other day.”

She raised one perfect eyebrow. “I see. So, you tripped and fell, and she caught you with her lips?”

He blew out a puff of air. “Well, sort of, after she pulled hard enough at my tie.” Now his whole face was hot. “I know I shouldn’t have - but I didn’t know what to do. No girl has ever just - ”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine when I came along,” Peggy said, cooly, and the worst of it was, he had been, a bit. The problem was, now that he knew what it was like to actually kiss a girl, he wanted to kiss one particular girl even more than he had before. But he seemed to have pretty much tanked his chances of that.

“Carter, Rogers!” called Howard Stark, from next to the transport plane. “Got those transponders for you. Looks like you’re all packed up and ready to go.” He shot Peggy a grin. “I told my guys to leave those dents in the shield when I had it painted. Just to remind him not to tick you off again.”

She flushed slightly. “I’d really rather you hadn’t, Howard.”

\-----

It was undeniably awkward, at first, having Peggy with the group, and not just because of what had happened with Private Lorraine. Unlike Steve, the rest of the team had never seen her in action, had no history with her other than what they’d heard about the way she’d tested his shield - and those rumours had gotten way out of hand as they’d spread through the camp.

She won them over, though, a little at a time. She jumped out of the plane like she was stepping off a curb, never seemed to tire on long marches, pulled her own weight when setting up camp. She expertly infiltrated the first Hydra weapons facility on their list, emerging with a treasure trove of information and an accurate diagram of the inside of the building for Dernier, their demolitions expert. She held her own in the firefight that followed too, and smiled a little wickedly when Steve told the others the story of how she’d knocked out Hodge his first day of Basic.

She even, on a slightly inebriated evening around the campfire, beat Dugan in a one-armed push-up contest. “Geez, Carter,” he said, rubbing his arm as she celebrated her victory with an extra swig of bourbon. “I don’t know what Cap did to you before you shot him, but I’m pretty sure he deserved it.”

There was laughter all around, and Peggy flushed red in the firelight. “I didn’t shoot him. I shot at his shield.” She glanced across the fire at Steve, and their eyes held. “I may have let my temper get away from me,” she said, then ducked her head and became very interested in Jones and Falsworth’s card game.

Later, after she’d excused herself to take a brief excursion into the woods, Dugan nudged Steve, so hard that it might have knocked over his smaller self. “Cap. Whatever you did, I think she’s over it, buddy.”

“Yeah, you should make a move,” agreed Morita.

Steve blinked. “Uh, I’m pretty sure she’s peeing. I don’t think she wants company.”

“Not right now, you bonehead” said Morita, rolling his eyes. “But, you know. Sometime. Have you seen the way she keeps looking at you?”

Bucky snorted. “Well, if she’s waiting for this idiot to make a move, she might be waiting forever.”

\-----

Steve thought about it, a lot, as they made their way back through Poland to their extraction point. Peggy did seem a lot more positively disposed toward him than she had in the aftermath of what he’d been privately thinking of as the Private Lorraine Incident. But she’d said it herself, they needed to be able to work together, and the fact that she was friendly to him - that she was a friend to him, even - didn’t necessarily mean she was still interested in that dance they’d been talking about. 

And, even if she was, now didn’t really seem the time to bring it up. 

They were nearly at the extraction point when they ran into the Hydra scouting party. There were only four men, but they had a couple of the deadly blue energy weapons that everyone but Peggy remembered vividly from Krausberg, and the fight was hampered by the trees and the fact that nobody could risk even the slightest touch from one of the blue blasts. Later, when Steve thought about the whole thing, there were only two moments that stood out. The first was feeling the crackling energy pass within inches of his back as he threw himself to the ground, caught in a crossfire of blue flame. 

The second was realizing that Peggy had been shot.

“I’m fine,” she protested, afterwards, as Morita packed her shoulder with gauze. She hadn’t made a sound as Morita had fished around for the bullets, although she’d clutched Steve’s hand so tightly it would have hurt his smaller self. At one point she’d gone so pale and sweaty that Steve had been sure she was going to pass out, but she’d taken a few deep breaths and stayed upright.

“You’re insane,” Dugan told her, admiringly. “Who the hell just hauls off and punches a guy who’s packing a weapon like that?” 

"Someone who’s too close to shoot them," said Peggy, and Dum Dum nodded.

Bucky was staring at her too. “You just dove at the guy,” he said. “You like Steve even more than I thought you did.”

Peggy looked annoyed. “I did what anyone would have done if a fellow soldier was in trouble. I would thank you not to insinuate that - ” she swallowed, looking faintly green. “Oh. I - do we have any water?”

Steve looked over at his pack, but Peggy was still clutching his hand and he wasn’t about to be the first to let go. Falsworth handed her his canteen, and she took a slow drink, starting to look slightly less like she’d just taken a ride on the Cyclone at Coney Island.

“Okay, that should hold you for now,” said Morita. “Try not to jostle anything.”

Steve tried very hard to keep his eyes on Peggy’s too-pale face as she readjusted her shirt. They’d removed her jacket, of course, and she’d unbuttoned her blouse far enough so it could be pulled down at the back to expose her wounded shoulder. Now, as Morita helped her tug the fabric back up over the bandage, the unbuttoned area slid down at the front and God, he was a heel, thinking about her breasts at a time like this.

She met his eye, and smiled, very slightly.


	3. Belarus, July 1944

_Belarus, July 1944_

Steve looked up from his map as Peggy and Jones came into the clearing. “We’ll need to be cautious,” Peggy said, sitting down beside him without ceremony. “The facility is exactly where we expected it to be, but there are more patrols in the area than we’d anticipated.” She turned to Bucky. “I expect our strategy will rely heavily on our sharpshooter.”

Bucky nodded and stood up, motioning to Jones. The two of them ambled over to the other side of the clearing, where Morita was digging through his pack. “Okay,” said Steve, turning back to the map. “So, what do you suggest we do?”

Peggy sat down beside him, touching his hand briefly before smoothing her forefinger over the map. He smiled at her, and, although her face was turned to the map, he could see a tiny, answering smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

They weren’t exactly a couple. There was a war on, and they had a job to do, and anyway, living practically in each other’s pockets along with the shamelessly nosy Howling Commandos didn’t afford a lot of opportunity for romance. But, six months tromping through the mud of the European theatre in each other’s company had given them time to get to know each other very well, and the better Steve knew Peggy, the more head over heels in love with her he was.

It wasn’t something they talked about a lot, but he knew he wasn’t alone. They’d each said enough, in tiny, private moments, that they both knew where they stood. It just - didn’t seem the right time to do anything about it.

They were companionably arguing through the best way to get Dernier and his explosives in and then Dernier out past three intersecting Hydra patrols, when Peggy frowned. “Do you smell fish?”

Steve blinked. “I - yeah, I do.” He frowned too. “It smells like we’re near the ocean. But - ”

The wind was from the north, and it had picked up considerably. Peggy bit her lip, her brow knitted. “I’ve heard - it sounds a little ridiculous, but we may be in for a snow storm.”

A snow storm in July did seem somewhat far-fetched. “Okay,” he said. “So, do we attack under cover of flurries?”

Peggy gave him a sideways glance. “The smell of herring means the wind is blowing in from the Baltic,” she said. “Whether or not that actually means snow is somewhat unclear. But if it does, we’re hardly prepared for it.”

The wind was blowing colder and colder, and clouds were rolling in. “All right,” Steve said. “Let’s get some shelter, just in case.”

\-----

“Look, I know we only had time to build the world’s tiniest tent, but my ass is half outside,” complained Dugan. “Someone needs to shove over.” 

Everyone shifted as best they could in the dim light that filtered through the tarpaulin-covered roof of their makeshift shelter, but it wasn’t enough. “Well, you ate a lot of beans last night, Dum Dum,” said Morita. “Probably better if your ass is outside.”

“Maybe,” said Dugan, “but I don’t think you’ll enjoy treating the frostbite.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Well, in the interest of saving Dugan’s arse and Morita’s delicate sensibilities, I suppose we can double up,” she said, and before Steve could fully parse the implications of that, she’d slid up onto his lap.

He was so acutely conscious of everywhere her body was pressed against his that he nearly couldn’t breathe. She squirmed a little as she tried to get comfortable, and he had a sudden moment of panic before she mercifully stopped moving and settled against him, pulling his arms around her to help hold her in place.

The Commandos had been similarly shuffling, redistributing themselves in the small space. “Well,” said Jones, “At least all this cuddling should ward off hypothermia.”

“Thanks, Peg,” said Dugan.

Peggy smiled at him. “Well, now I get to reap the benefits of Steve’s metabolism. He’s rather like a furnace, you know.”

“Right,” said Bucky. “And I’m sure that’s the only reason you volunteered, Agent Carter.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Wanker,” she said, fondly.

They sat in comfortable silence as the wind whistled around the shelter and snow built up on the tarp over their heads. “Okay,” said Steve, thoughtfully. “Can we turn this to our advantage somehow?”

“Well, normally I’d say that now you’ve got her in your lap, you should kiss her,” said Dugan, “but since we’re all right here, could be a bit awkward.”

“Hit him for me, will you?” asked Peggy in French, and Dernier reached over and swatted Dugan on the ear. 

Steve, resisting a sudden, wild, urge to kiss her anyway, shot Dugan his best disappointed captain look. “I meant the storm. If we strike as soon as the snow stops, we might be able to catch them off-guard.”

“That’s a good idea,” agreed Peggy. “And, while we’re discussing strategy, it’s also occured to me that with so many patrols about it may be wise to have a second sharpshooter.”

Steve nodded against her hair, which smelled far better than it should have, considering how long it had been since any of them had had the opportunity for a bath. “Yeah. I was thinking that too.”

There wasn’t room to unfold the map, but by the time the snow had slowed to the occasional flake, they all knew exactly what their plan was.

\-----

They’d armed the explosives and were on their way out when a shout, followed by an exclamation and the sound of something heavy hitting the snowy ground, let them know they’d been spotted.

“Well, so much for our clean get-away,” panted Falsworth as he dove behind a bush next to where Steve was crouched, suddenly surrounded by Hydra soldiers.

Steve did a quick mental calculation. “We’re still inside the blast zone,” he said. “Try to draw them away from the building. We don’t want to be this close when it goes off.” He took care of several attackers with a single long arc of his shield, and then took off running, a little farther away from the base.

The half-snowy ground made everything unpredictably slippery and, to make things worse, on his next throw the shield slammed into a tree and stuck instead of bouncing back. “Shit,” he muttered, spinning to avoid a bullet and then transferring his momentum into a solid backfist to a Hydra soldier’s jaw. As he fought his way over to free the shield, he ducked under the barrel of a rifle just as his heel caught on a particularly slippery bit of slush, and swore again as he went down, ass over teakettle.

He twisted in the air, then rolled out of the way of a Hydra flamethrower pointed nearly point-blank at his head, but it was too close for even him to escape in time. As if in slow motion, he could see the man’s finger tighten on the trigger, and then loosen abruptly as a red stain bloomed over his back and he slumped to the ground.

“Thanks,” he breathed to Bucky or Peggy, although it wasn’t likely either of them could hear him, and dove back into the fight.

The battle didn’t last much longer than that, and they were all well on their way in the jeeps when the explosion hit, lighting up the sky behind them like fourth of July fireworks.

\-----

The snow was nearly gone by the time the sun went down, but it was still chilly for summer. After uncharacteristically losing to Dugan and Jones at a game of rummy, Peggy declared herself out of the game for the evening. She got up to add a log to the fire and then settled herself back down next to Steve, shooting him a sideways glance he couldn’t quite interpret. He hesitated briefly, and then slid his arm around her.

Dum Dum grinned at her. “Normally I’d say you’re a sore loser, Agent Carter, but I think you just want to snuggle with Cap.”

“Well, I’ve discovered how terribly handy he is as a heat source,” she said, and Dum Dum snorted but went back to shuffling the cards without further comment.

Steve tightened his arm around her. “You okay?” he asked her, quietly.

“Yes,” she said, but he knew her well enough to hear the slight wobble in her voice. “I just - ” she looked down at her knees. “After you’d lost your shield, if I hadn’t had a clear shot - ” 

“I know,” he said, and suddenly he wondered if maybe they had it all backwards. It was possible, he thought, that now, in the middle of a war, was actually precisely the right time to start something.


	4. Russia, January 1945

_ Russia, January 1945 _

It had been a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half their battalion behind the German line near Volgograd, and a Hydra blockade had pinned down their allies for months.

Even the appearance of Captain America and his Howling Commandos didn’t generate much excitement. They themselves were bedraggled and hungry, fresh from the destruction of several Hydra bases, almost out of food and unable to resupply.

In bulky winter gear with her hair hidden under her heavy woolen hat, Peggy had either gone unnoticed or unremarked and had been put in sleeping quarters with the rest of them, all eight of them in one tent meant for six, although in the bitter cold nobody minded the extra closeness and warmth.

In theory, that was. In practice, even if Peggy had slept directly on top of Steve, as several of the Commandos had helpfully suggested, there still wouldn’t have been enough space to avoid someone touching the walls of the tent and bringing icy water in on everyone. They’d arrived exhausted with the hope of a decent meal, and found sparse, meagre rations and a thousand desperate men. Everybody was cranky and quarrelsome, and sorely in need of a good night’s sleep.

“Look,” said Steve, finally. “We’ve got three options. We all sleep sitting up, we take shifts, or a couple of us move to one of the smaller tents.” It went without saying that Steve could take the cold more easily than the rest of them could. 

And it also pretty much went without saying who would go with him.

\-----

Once they’d gotten the tiny tent set up in back of the bigger one, Peggy crawled in first. She spread out her bedroll, and then, as Steve moved to open his, she paused in the act of removing one of her boots and touched his arm. “I think we should share. With only two of us, it’s too cold to - ”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and his heart sped up, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that they were about to be in very close quarters, and nearly entirely unsupervised.

They’d slept next to each other plenty of times. It had been a cold winter, and Peggy had been taking full advantage of her own personal furnace. But they’d always been at least nominally in their own separate bedrolls, and they’d always been surrounded by others.

He hadn’t kissed her that night in Belarus after the July snowstorm, but she’d kissed him, a week later in London. The Commandos had mostly stopped teasing them about it by now, and they tried not to be obvious about it, but kissing was something they did now. Something they’d been doing, with great enthusiasm, for the past six months.

Peggy was shivering as he slid in beside her, and he was too, although not really from the cold. He wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled into his chest and twined her legs around his. The wind rattled against the canvas of their tent. “Good God, it’s freezing,” she said.

“And all these troops have been trapped here for weeks, on half-rations” he said, into her hair.

She nodded. “We’ll see what we can do about that when we regroup in the morning, provided we don’t turn into icicles overnight.”

Steve kissed the top of her head, and she tilted up her face to his. “I know a good way to warm ourselves up,” he said, and she smiled.

“You do realize the others are only a few yards away.”

“I know,” he said, and kissed her. He could feel her smile against his lips, and then she kissed him back, not exactly gently, but lazily, as if they had all the time in the world. Which, for once, they did.

It soon became apparent that as a plan to generate body heat, kissing Peggy was a rousing success. As a plan to get some sleep so they’d be able to think straight in the morning despite half rations and general exhaustion, however, it was deeply flawed.

Peggy’s arms were looped around his neck, her head thrown back as he kissed his way along her jawline, her breath coming in quiet little gasps that he hoped to hell weren’t being carried by the wind into the big tent. She fisted one of her hands through the back of his hair, took a long, shuddering breath, and kissed him hard on the mouth, hooking one of her legs around his waist and rolling her hips against his.

They both gasped at that, and Steve froze. “Peggy,” he managed.

“Steve,” she whispered back. She took another shaky breath. “I know.” Her voice was rough, much lower than usual. “If we don’t stop now, we - ” They stared at each other in the darkness. “Maybe we don’t stop,” she breathed, finally. “I don’t want to stop.”

“I don’t either,” he admitted. He suspected neither of them was thinking very clearly at this point, despite having successfully warded off hypothermia. 

“We’ll have to be very quiet,” she said, and part of him realized what a truly terrible idea this was, but the rest of him was too busy kissing her to care.

Despite the heat flaring between them it was too cold to really get undressed, the frozen ground beneath them drawing all their hard-earned warmth away. But he managed to untuck her shirt and slide his hand inside, ghosting his fingers along the soft skin beneath, and then higher up to the thin layer of fabric still covering the curve of her breast. Her breath hitched, warm in his ear, and she drew her tongue roughly along the sensitive spot on the side of his neck as she tugged his own shirt out of his waistband. 

Steve was trembling with arousal and the effort to stay silent, and Peggy seemed to be in a similar predicament. When he brushed his thumb over the hardness of her nipple, she buried her face in his shoulder with a muffled gasp, and arched into him. “Oh,” she breathed, “I - ” and slid one hand down between them to where he was already straining against the too-tight fabric of his uniform pants.

Now it was his turn to muffle his sudden intake of breath, into her hair. “Oh God, Peggy.” He slid one of his own hands downward to her waistband, and then the other when her buttons proved more difficult than he’d expected.

She took over for him impatiently, her smaller fingers easily unbuttoning both her own fly and his. He felt - oh, it was like he was was falling, and Peggy was the only thing anchoring him to the world. As she freed him from his underwear and wrapped her bare hand around him, a slow shudder ran through his whole body.

All the rubbers had already gone to protect the gun barrels and Dernier’s explosives, but it was really too cold to get any more undressed than they already were anyway, and - oh, God - Steve buried his face hastily in the pillow. Peggy gasped against his neck as he slid his hand into her underwear in turn. His knowledge of what to do at this point was entirely theoretical, but when he found what he thought was the spot he was looking for she bit the intersection of his neck and shoulder hard, and a tiny, low moan escaped from her throat.

The world had narrowed to the two of them, and everything was so breathtakingly intense. Peggy’s body against his, the relentless motion of her hand, the breathless thrill of what his own fingers were doing. He was - he, oh - oh God, he was going make a mess of her bedroll. 

“Peggy,” he said, strangled, into her ear, and she abruptly stilled her hand. He sucked in a breath, staring at her, and then, before he’d fully realized what she intended, she’d disappeared under the covers.

Her mouth on him was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he embarrassed himself by falling apart almost immediately, the heroic effort of staying silent only intensifying the thrill. His release crashed over him white-hot, leaving him boneless and sated, and he hadn’t actually realized it was possible to fall even more deeply in love with Peggy Carter. But here it was, so fierce that he could hardly breathe. 

After a moment she slid back up to kiss him, an unfamiliar taste that could only be himself on her tongue, and he remembered he still had a job to do. “I thought we’d save laundry,” she said, her voice low and breathless. “Although, I’m afraid there’s not much that can be done for my knickers. They’re - ah! Steve.”

Her knickers were indeed, quite damp, and Peggy herself was breathtakingly slippery. She reached down and guided his hand, showing him exactly what she wanted from his fingers and thumb, and he slid his other hand back up the inside of her shirt, brushing one of her nipples through the fabric of her bra. She inhaled sharply, arching into him, and then all at once she was burying her face in his neck and falling helplessly over the edge. 

To his delight he could feel it happening, her muscles contracting around his fingers, her body slumping bonelessly against him, her breath ragged against his cheek. Once her heart had stopped thumping madly and her breathing had slowed, he pulled his fingers gently away, and she sucked in a breath, her hips restless. He grinned. “Keep going?”

“Please,” she breathed into his ear and he went back to work, more confident now. Her whole body shook this time as she came apart, her mouth open in a silent wail against his cheek, and afterward she curled against him, yawning. “Are you all right?” she asked, after a moment.

He smiled into the darkness. “Yeah.”

“I would very much like to do this again, more thoroughly, in a proper bed, quite soon,” she said, drowsily. “I suppose we’ll have to break the blockade.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Yeah,” he said. “Although, I like to think we would have done it anyway, Agent Carter.”

\-----

Two days later, they had a plan. The battalion commander, knowing the current situation wasn’t sustainable, had reluctantly agreed, although Steve could tell he doubted that even Captain America and his Howling Commandos could break a blockade where an entire battalion had repeatedly failed. After all, they were only seven men. And one woman, although the commander had clearly decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed that.

Steve crouched between Jones and Dugan, peering over a rise overlooking the narrow passage controlled by the Hydra troops on the hills opposite. The blizzard had lessened, but visibility was low. 

Somewhere, to the back of the Hydra camp, Peggy, Morita, and Dernier should be almost in position, slipping silently past the sentries they’d spent the past two days observing. Sharpshooting was a dodgy proposition in conditions like this, so Peggy and Bucky were outfitted to fight along with the others, although Peggy’s main task was to cover Dernier and Morita as they worked their magic on the Hydra tanks and supply tents.

The rest of them were the distraction.

Steve’s transponder beeped. “Let’s go,” he said to Jones and Dugan, and without ceremony he leapt directly off the rise. The element of surprise got him surprisingly far before bullets started to hit his shield, the red white and blue an irresistible target, and he felt a surge of grim satisfaction at drawing their attention.

As the battle erupted fully his world was narrowed to the sound of guns and the shouts of men, the awareness of where his companions were, the rhythm of his shield - block, throw, catch, swing. The air was frosty but bracing, adrenaline heightening his senses, and he sensed the explosion moments before it lit up the sky, startling the Hydra troops into briefly losing focus. The Commandos surged forward, and now Peggy, Morita, and Dernier had joined them.

“Did you send the signal?” he asked Peggy, slamming his shield down on a Hydra soldier who’d hoped to catch her unaware, and she nodded, aiming over his shoulder to pick off another who’d been blasting his weapon at Bucky. Reinforcements were on their way, now that the blockade was crumbling and their small, nimble team was no longer the best tool for the job.

In the meantime, though, the battle was raging, and there was no time for anything but fighting. Peggy dove behind a tree to avoid a blast of machine gun fire, and Steve spun off in the other direction, smashing his shield down on a group of three men with blue energy weapons. “Shit!” he heard Bucky mutter, and turned to see him down, caught in a crossfire. He flung his shield at the nearest of the two men who had Bucky cornered, and Bucky scrambled out of the way.

The shield wasn’t so lucky. He’d flung it on an arc that should have sent it back into his hand, but it was intercepted mid-air by a machine gun blast that knocked it just far enough off course that it flew past him out of reach. He began to fight his way over to it, but without it he was a popular target. He dove out of the way of a blast of blue light, and then another, until he was cornered against the cliff face. “On your right!” yelled Peggy, and he turned just in time to duck under a volley of bullets from a machine gun. Peggy dispatched the shooter with her own blast of machine gun fire, then shouted at Dugan. “Cover me!”

She dove to the side, rolled, and came up with a punch to the face and a knee to the gut of the nearest Hydra soldier, then dove again to come up behind the enterprising man who’d picked up Steve’s shield and was swinging it experimentally, testing its heft. She brought the barrel of her gun down on the back of the man’s head, then turned and dispatched the soldier behind her with an elbow to the jaw before bending down to pick up the shield.

Steve, unarmed and attracting more and more attention from the Hydra troops, was just starting to worry he might not be able to dodge the next coordinated assault when Peggy tossed him the shield in a long, low arc, knocking the weapons out of the hands of three separate soldiers on its way to Steve. He caught it and began to swing his way out of trouble.

He could hear Dugan whistle. “Nice throw, Peg.”

“Thanks,” she called back, already busy with another Hydra soldier. “I think our reinforcements have arrived,” she added, over her shoulder, and yes, there was the battalion, 1000 men tired and hungry and damned well ready to fight their way out of this.

\-----

They caught a transport plane back to London afterwards, which improved everyone’s mood considerably. “They’re bringing us all the way to London to debrief,” said Dugan, cheerfully, above the drone of the engine. “there’s no way we’re not getting leave.”

“I don’t even care, as long as I get a hot meal,” said Morita. “And a hot shower. I don’t really care which comes first.”

Peggy nodded. “I would very much like a proper bath. And a real bed.” She gave Steve a sideways glance, and he suddenly felt it prudent to fold his hands on his lap.

“We’ll get leave,” said Bucky, confidently. “Bet you get another medal too, Stevie.” He grinned.

Steve sighed. “I wish they’d stop giving me those. It’s ridiculous. You all do just as much as I do, and you never get medals. Especially Peggy.”

“She does keep saving your ass,” agreed Jones.

“I think that’s just ‘cause she likes looking at it, though,” said Morita, to much laughter.

Steve wished fervently that the serum had given him the ability to stop himself from blushing.


	5. Swiss Alps, March 1945

Johann Schmidt disappeared around a curve, and Steve angled his shield and tossed it after him. It ricocheted off the wall exactly as he’d intended, but then wedged itself into a too-narrow doorway he hadn’t realized was there. Shit. He dashed towards it, but was forced back by a flamethrower-wielding soldier and ducked into another doorway to assess his options. It was regular flame, not blue, but even Captain American wasn’t fireproof, and getting himself burned to a crisp wouldn’t go far towards taking down Hydra.

There was a sudden burst of machine gun fire, and the man with the flamethrower fell to the floor. Steve jogged forward, cautiously, and there was Peggy, badly-hidden relief in her eyes. He stepped towards her, wondering vaguely where her helmet was, and they stared at each other for a long moment. He had the strong impression that she was inches away from throwing down her weapon and dragging him into the nearest storage closet.

“You’re late,” he said, his mouth dry, and took another step towards her. 

She took a steadying breath. “Weren’t you about to - ”

Shit. “Right,” he said, retrieving his shield from the doorway and dashing in the direction Schmidt had gone. Maybe, he thought, he and Peggy should have waited until after the war after all, because ever since Volgograd they’d both been constantly channeling the heat of battle into an entirely different sort of heat.

They’d always been sharply aware of each other in combat, and they still made a good fighting team because of it. It was just that now they were sharply aware of each other in a new way too, having experienced the rapid heart rate and breathlessness and adrenaline of battle with each other in a vastly different context, and sometimes - well, sometimes something like that happened.

He’d only lost a few seconds, though, and if it wasn’t for Peggy he’d have probably still be trapped behind a rapidly-approaching wall of flame. So, all in all, they could probably ravish each other later on with a clear conscience, aside from the usual knowledge that they would be in a lot of trouble if they were caught by anyone other than a Howling Commando.

\-----

Schmidt was already on board his plane, engines running, when Steve burst into the hanger. He fought his way through the still-raging battle and sprinted after it, but it pulled steadily away from him. He’d just slowed to a halt, defeated, when Phillips and Peggy screeched to a halt in a stolen car. “Get in!” shouted Phillips.

The car, after an experimental button push had activated its afterburners, was catching up to the Valkyrie, and Steve was steadying himself, preparing to leap, when Peggy leaned forward. “Wait!” She half-stood, pulling him down by the strap of his suit, and kissed him, fiercely, right in front of Phillips. “Go get him,” she said, as he stared at her.

Phillips, looking distinctly unsurprised, gave Steve a long-suffering look. “I’m not kissing you,” he said, impatiently.

Right. Steve ducked under the propeller, and then as the plane cleared the tunnel and began to lift off into the snowy sky, he leapt.

It occurred to him, as he pulled himself into the rapidly-rising plane, that Phillips knew perfectly well that hadn’t been their first kiss, and didn’t particularly care. And furthermore, that the war was almost over. If he survived this, they were going to win.

He was going to take out Schmidt, make sure that so many of Hydra’s damn heads were cut off that it would be child’s play to eliminate the rest of them. 

And then, when he got back, he was going to ask Peggy to marry him.


	6. Niagara Falls, July 1948

_ Niagara Falls, July 1948 _

It wouldn’t be a proper honeymoon without some sort of snag, Steve supposed.

He’d carried Peggy, laughing and slightly tipsy, over the threshold of their nuptial suite, only to discover that it was already occupied, by a dark-haired, blue-eyed woman he instinctively read as dangerous.

Peggy sighed, sliding down to the floor. “Hello, Dottie. How lovely to see you.”

“Hey Peg!” Dottie gave her a cheery little wave. “Heard you got hitched.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “Yes. And I don’t mean to be rude, but you most certainly were not invited along on the honeymoon.”

Dottie leaned forward, breathlessly. “Well, I just had to get a look at the lucky groom.” She raked her gaze over Steve with an uncomfortable intensity, then raised an impressed eyebrow. “He’s quite something, Peg. I’ve seen pictures, of course, both before and after, but Erskine really was a master. Nobody’s ever quite been able to replicate his work.”

He could feel Peggy, beside him, readying herself for action. “What do you want, Dottie?” she asked, flatly.

“Oh, well,” said Dottie, looking apologetic. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal your husband. It’s not personal, of course, but - ”

Peggy raised her eyebrows. “And what makes you think you can overpower both me, and someone you know perfectly well is enhanced beyond normal human ability?”

Dottie gave her a slow smile. “Well, I overpowered you with a single kiss, once.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, but Peggy rolled her eyes. “And the last two times we fought, I bested you, if you will recall. So I think the odds are really in my favour, don’t you?”

Dottie looked at her fondly. “Oh, Peg. I wasn’t trying my hardest. And this time I brought a friend.” There was a tiny shuffle from the bathroom, and she looked at her watch. “Well, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our little visit, but enough chit chat. Time to get to work.”

“This is Dottie Underwood?” Steve asked Peggy, and she nodded. Dottie, as far as Steve could figure, was a graduate of an early version of the same Red Room that had produced Natasha Romanoff, and he assumed the second woman who was now emerging from the bathroom had a similar background.

“All right,” he said, wearily. “You take Dottie, I’ll take her friend.” The blonde woman from the bathroom gave him an enigmatic smile and then leapt at him from a standstill, in an attack he recognized perfectly from hours and hours of sparring with Natasha. 

Nat would be quietly laughing her ass off if she could see him right now, he thought wistfully. Although not so hard that she wouldn’t help them out, and then give them a knowing smirk and leave them alone to enjoy their honeymoon. 

And now she’d be smacking him for thinking about her instead of focusing on the fight.

His opponent, although she was very good, was clearly not expecting him to have any familiarity with her fighting style, and he could see her getting more and more frustrated as he anticipated her moves with the ease of long experience. When he finally knocked her out, though, it was with an elbow to the chin that he’d learned, not from Natasha, but from Peggy.

And just in time, because Peggy, her reaction times a bit hampered by the champagne she’d had at dinner, and her range of motion extremely hampered by her wedding dress, wasn’t faring quite as well. She’d been holding her own, but Dottie had just knocked her backwards over the footboard of the bed and was leaping at her in an advance that Steve knew was designed to end in a choke at best and a snapped neck at worst.

He dove to intercept, and Peggy rolled out of the way under him. Dottie twisted out of his grip, then used the wall in the corner of the room to throw herself into a wild leap intended to land her with her thighs around his neck. “Interesting,” she said as she flew through the air, only very slightly out of breath. “I didn’t realize you’d encountered one of us before, Captain Rogers.”

He twisted out of the way and got his arm around her in a guillotine choke instead. “I think you’ll find there’s a lot about me that you don’t know, Miss Underwood,” he said, mildly, before releasing her, boneless, to the floor. 

“Got anything to tie her up with?” he asked Peggy, and she tossed him a couple of his neckties. She herself was already working on securely binding the other woman with what looked like the belts from the hotel’s complimentary bathrobes.

“Thanks,” she said. “I should never have worn such an impractical dress.”

He grinned at her. “Pretty sure I still owe you one. More than one.” She smiled at him, and suddenly both of them were out of breath for a completely different reason. 

“The most annoying part,” said Peggy, suddenly hoarse, “is that now we have to wait for backup.” 

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” said Dottie, brightly, from the floor, and they both sighed.

\-----

Luckily, there were a number of SSR agents in town for the wedding, so they didn’t have to wait too terribly long. Jack Thompson, showing that he might have learned a little from past experience, brought four agents to collect Dottie and her colleague. He surveyed the room, took in the mess that was Peggy’s hair and dress, then snorted. “You can’t do anything the normal way, can you, Marge?”

“Apparently not,” Peggy said, and really, Thompson didn’t know the half of it.

“We make a pretty good team, you know,” Steve told her, after everyone had left and they’d firmly locked the door behind them. 

“Rogers, you idiot, are you just now realizing that?” she asked, in a rather breathless voice, which probably had something to do with the way his hand was slowly sliding up under her skirt. “We have a perfectly good bed right over there, you know,” she added, even as she leaned back against the door and helped him pull up the fabric for better access.

“I know,” he managed as she began to work at the buttons of his fly. “But I don’t think we should take any chances. Who knows what might happen before we get there?” He slid his thumbs under the elastic of her underwear, intending to slide it off before hoisting her up, but didn't get any further before she arched against him, gasped, and thoroughly made up for all the times she’d managed to stay quiet during the war.

“Crikey O’Reilly, Rogers,” she panted.

He blinked. “Did you just - ”

“Shut up,” she said, repressively, “and help me get my knickers off. I’m perfectly capable of doing it again, you know.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

\-----

“Do you think it will be different, now that we’re married?” she asked, later, curled against him in bed.

He yawned and kissed her shoulder. “Do I think what will be different?”

“Mmm.” She yawned too, hugely. “Fighting.” 

He grinned. “You mean, are we still going to want to rip each other’s clothes off afterwards? Probably.”

She craned her neck up and kissed his jaw. “I wanted to even when you were small, you know.”

“I wanted to even when you were ninety,” he confessed, and she laughed.

“Were we doing a lot of fighting together at that point? I thought I was rather frail, from what you’ve told me.”

“You were,” he said, “but you were still saving me.”

She smiled against his chest. “Perhaps I have a complex.”

“Yeah, I love you too, Agent Rogers” he said, and smiled too as she snuggled closer and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
